


The Lamplighter

by LadyHorizon94



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Historical, Horror, Lamps, Sooo much lamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHorizon94/pseuds/LadyHorizon94
Summary: He saw it. It made him stop just by standing there.An unlit streetlamp that striking just by the fact it didn’t have a flame on it.Henry just knew





	The Lamplighter

**Author's Note:**

> A short horror one-shot about streetlamps. Yes my dudes, about streetlamps.

**The Lamplighter**

 

Any decent, god fearing man was afraid of death. It was, after all a matter of soul and immortal life. It kept the good men and women free of sinful thoughts and acts. It kept the order and discipline in the society and chaos far, far away. As long as a matter of soul had a clear answer – provided by the church of course – everything was right and good in the world. People were calm and their fears were at ease.

Still, sometimes there were those who doubted and wondered – not out loud of course and never in bright daylight. They walked the silent streets of London, staring at the soft light of streetlights with hazy eyes, pondering the fate of their soul and weather it really ended up anywhere once the light of their soul had diminished.

Only the fire caged by the glass would know these unspoken thoughts.

In fact, there seemed to be more and more people out on the streets at night despite the fog that seemed to be constant bother lately. Still, the light on the streetlamps glowed brighter than ever and people spoke that somehow… it was more beautiful than ever before and wondered if local lamplighters had done something special to them.

No, in the matter of fact they had not. Actually, the phenomenon made these good men rather irritated since someone was doing their job for them. Every time lamplighters would get ready for the work they would notice that someone had already made their job for them. Every single lamp was shining and glowing silently when lamplighters arrived.

And whoever was behind this was collecting all the credit when before the job had been almost invisible.

Of course this caused large wave of anger. Lamplighters were even at each other’s throats accusing one another. There were also suspicions of some outsider ridiculing this noble line of work.

Whoever was doing this, there was no denying that the flames inside of lamps were beautiful and mesmerizing and put people at ease. The fog had been more and more thick lately but still people wanted to take a roundabout to admire the warm, comforting fire.

The police – like the lamplighters – weren’t enthusiastic of this new habbit. People had started disappearing and it was obvious that loitering outside at the late hours only increased the risk. Their hands were already full as it was. People did not listen to warnings, rather they appeared to have abandoned any cautions and healthy suspicions.

That was, except for one.

Henry, was a young man with a healthy dose of common sense. He was a god fearing man of course and concerned of his matter of his soul but he wasn’t overly conscious over it. He was sure that as long as he was genuine and fair towards his fellow men he would be just fine. Moreover, his life was just ahead of him so such things shouldn’t be given that much worry.

He was rather descent looking too. Blond wanton hair and blue twinkling eyes with few freckles decorating his nose. Only thing he should be concerned about was finding a fiancee. A girl with vivid, jolly personality and talent with housework.

Still, something about these streetlamps… Bothered him. There were something unnatural about them and whenever he left work late at night he avoided looking straight at them. Otherwise he was sure they would capture his eyes and never let go. The glow was cold and yet inviting and Henry was sure he was hearing the flames whispering, wailing and moaning.

They were _calling_ for him.

 _Oh, now I am just being silly,_ He always thought the following morning when sunlight pierced through the window, lighting his modest apartment. But as the sunset, his uneasiness would return. And it didn’t get any better as days passed.

The whispering of the flames got louder – almost demanding – every passing night and he could swore someone was staring at him.

 _Why of course. There are lot of folk on a stroll. It’s inevitable,_ was his reasoning. Still, the his heart kept pounding and he fastened his steps just in case. And he kept glancing on his sides trying to catch any possible follower.

But none of the attention wasn’t on him. The lamps – those goddamn lamps – had captured crowd. And Henry noticed his eyes wondering towards them too. Where ever he looked, he couldn’t help but noticing them.

When he finally arrived his home his legs trembled and they almost gave in under him. With trembling hands he prepared tea for himself and dimmed all the lights in the apartment, not standing to look at them.

Only then, he could feel his heart stop beating and his trembling eas a bit. As he sat by the table, sipping away his camomile tea, Henry felt foolish once again. Surely disappearances were… unnerving and there was something weird about the lights that no lamp lighter admitted to have lit in the first place but surely he was over reacting. He wasn’t a child anymore and hadn’t he enjoyed the walk home earlier? This had to be his mind reacting to this new criminal activity on the area, nothing more.

Then, came the dreams. They were full of fog and glowing so bright Henry feared he would be blinded by it. He was closed in somekind of glass container and as he was trying to knock against it to free himself the man found he didn’t have any strenght in his hands.

Henry couldn’t breath. It was hot and so, so bright -

He woke up gasping for air. This time, the sunlight didn’t help him to erase the devilish vision. Instead it taunted him. Henry jumped out of his bed and pulled the curtains over the window.

Next few evenings, the man tried to take different routes and roundabouts – even through narrow, dirty and rather shady side streets in hopes of them being completely unlit.

And they were – at first. Then as if grown from the ground new street lamp rose even in the most narrowest of streets. As if there was no street unlit.

It was puzzling. There had been no announcements or notification on such things and Henry hadn’t seen anyone building one. More importantly now there was no escape from those damn lamps and his dreams got worse and worse.

Now there was oil and gas and a figure he couldn’t quite make out of but which smelled like coal and smoke. The figure’s breathing came out as raspy gasps and rhonchus and it haunted our poor man even on his waking hours.

Now his only comfort was that even if someone _did_ stare him at nights or followed him, there were so many people outside they couldn’t do anything bad for him without risking to get caught.

It didn’t protect him from the lights or his dreams. He tried to get comfort from the darkness of his own home and rushing home after work eyes locked on the wet, dark street.

His co-workers, family and friends started to get worried of course. They noted Henry looked pale and he didn’t go out to have a drink or two on a pub like he used to or visit his loved ones as much. The young man simply laughed it off, knowing very well telling anyone about his strange disgust with a light of any kind wouldn’t make sense. He understood perfectly that a strapping young gentleman like himself cowering in the dark was rather odd but he couldn’t bring himself to reach out to those worried about him.

But he agreed something needed to be done. So, after an especially tormenting nightmare and a long day Henry mustered all of his courage and headed to a doctor wanting to pour his heart out to someone with possible practical solution.

That night was quiet. Very, very quiet. Henry could hear his own footsteps loud and clear and soon he realized that this time there was no awed crowd wondering slowly in the night.

He was all alone.

The man’s heart began to pound. He had to force himself to continue reminding himself that the clinic wasn’t that far off anymore.

Then, there were other set of footsteps, echoing Henry’s own. His heart stopped and the man felt his skin get clammy from the cold sweat forming on his skin. The man assured himself it was just another nightly walker. Nothing more.

He knew he was wrong even before hearing that raspy breath.

Even when his mind protested Henry turned to look. He had to. He had to made sure it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him.

It was the figure from his dreams. Coming closer and closer. It had a cloak on but something black was dripping on its’ skin on the ground. The same black substance was left behind when the creature walked. On its’ long thin fingers it carried an empty lantern. Henry couldn’t see its’ face clearly but he caught glimpse of the fiery, burning two holes that just _knew_ his soul through and through.

The creature wanted it. Somehow the man just knew it.

He let out a horrified yell and started to run. The lights on his lights were nothing but a shimmering line and they screamed at him. It invated his mind making his head hurt. The air felt heavy and thick and Henry could smell a hint of oil and coal on the air.

He saw it. It made him stop just by standing there.

An unlit streetlamp that was striking just by the fact it didn’t have a flame on it.

Henry just _knew_

He fell on his knees and let out a whimpering cry. The man lift his hands on his face the horror and sorrow growing inside him.

There was a heavy, hot breath on his neck and a burning hand on his shoulder that was dripping, black, thick liquied.

He was melting. He was burning -

That night, the lamplighter did his job as every night and lit a new flame on the streetlamp. Then he vanished in the shadows waiting for the next soul.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea from Mary Poppins returns. Funny how my mind works.


End file.
